


Title: “Another one bites the dust”, an Orson Krennic one-shot

by AzureAngel2



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 18:24:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20493248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureAngel2/pseuds/AzureAngel2
Summary: Summary: It's just another one of those never-ending meetings. Sponsored by a bad air-co and even worse caf. The speakers have their own agenda. Nobody really listens to one another. There is no progress, no consensus. Just seeking one's own advantages seems essential.And suddenly, it gets very personal for Director Orson Krennic. Too frecking' personal.Length: one-shotTime frame: The story takes place in 14 BBY.Place of choice: The construction site of a certain battle stationReader Warning: Please excuse my weird English! I am German. English is only my Second language!Note: Don't take this and claim it's yours. This and all material related to this story is copy-written by me. Unless otherwise mentioned or you have explicit permission from me, you cannot use anything related for any purpose.Disclaimer: SW is owned by Walt Disney, George Lucas and Lucas Lt.!!!





	Title: “Another one bites the dust”, an Orson Krennic one-shot

**Title: “Another one bites the dust”, an Orson Krennic one-shot**

_How does a moment last forever?_  
_ How can a story never die?_  
_ It is love we must hold onto_  
_ Never easy, but we try_  
_ Sometimes our happiness is captured_  
_ Somehow, our time and place stand still_  
_ Love lives on inside our hearts and always will_

_Minutes turn to hours, days to years then gone_  
_ But when all else has been forgotten_  
_ Still our song lives on_

_Maybe some moments weren't so perfect_  
_ Maybe some memories not so sweet_  
_ But we have to know some bad times_  
_ Or are lives are incomplete_  
_ Then when the shadows overtake us_  
_ Just when we feel all hope is gone_  
_ We'll hear our song and know once more_  
_ Our love lives on_

_How does a moment last forever?_  
_ How does our happiness endure?_  
_ Through the darkest of our troubles_  
_ Love is beauty, love is pure_  
_ Love pays no mind to desolation_  
_ It flows like a river through the soul_  
_ Protects, perceives, and perseveres_  
_ And makes us whole_

_Minutes turn to hours, days to years then gone_  
_ But when all else has been forgotten_  
_ Still our song lives on_  
_ How does a moment last forever_  
_ When our song lives on_

You can see corns of dust dancing in the air. Who has dandruff and who doesn't also becomes overly clear to you after a while. There are things you were never meant to know about the other members of Tarkin's freckin' club.

Adding to the stupidity of most verbal contributions is the caf: a broth thicker than sweat and browner than bantha poodoo. You could swear that no real beans were used.

But there is a more pressing matter: the unbelievably stale air. A pack of wet Wookies smells way better than the gathered folk. There are scientists, Imperial officers and, the worst case of air pollution, some guy from the Inner Council. You do not recall his exact name. Something like Paté. He was at Ina's cremation about five years ago and is enclosed in a cloud of perfume that has an almost feminine touch to it.

You lean back in your chair and roll your eyes towards the ceiling.

At the end of a very long day you simply want out of this conference room.

You bet that the mummies, which Lor San Tekka keeps finding during his infamous tomb raids, have more sparkle in them than this lot. There is no innovation. No flow. Basically they do not even agree to disagree.

A business meeting would have gone totally different. Because companies want to make money by making their consumers slash clients happy. This is why CEOs invest in their staff. Happy employers are good for the working environment. Nobody knows this better than you.

You stare at the flimsi in front of you. There was no need to write down anything today.

The sigh that wants to escape your throat stays were it should be. In the depths of your chest. Because somebody declares, “I have a question.”

“Here we go!” you grimly think, identifying the speaker.

“Why has Director Krennic asked staff headquarters for paternity leave?” Professor Thlu-Ry moves on, more agitated than before. “This is a request unheard of.”

The silence that falls almost make your eardrums burst.

You decide to hold your tongue. There is no messing with Child Protective Services. Not at this stage of the planned adoption.

While a whirlwind of doom seems to sweep over the conference table, you remain in the eye of the storm. Your temper always has been a major flaw, giving you a bad reputation. For the sake of the girl you are desperate to take in as a legal daughter, you have to stand down.

The most unlikely person comes to your rescue. One of Tarkin's boys. The Seswenna connection: Major Conan Antonio Motti. Looking smug and sanctimonious as ever, the man gets up and leans over the conference table to face Professor Thlu-Ry. “I am so not interested in the director's private matters. As long as he finally delivers, what the Emperor asked of him, he can adopt an entire Wookie clan.”

You keep your face blank.

“But...” the scientist throws in, scarlet red in his face.

“Professor, I became part of this Initiative because I believe in our glorious empire.” Moff Tarkin's nephew slumps down in his seat again. “If you want to gossip, I advise you for a career at IHV. They have a morning program for bored housewives.”

You bite your tongue.

The major is much more than an inflated Kitonak. And he can be reasonable. Who would have thought!

“If you don't mind, I would like to close today's meeting,” says the Emperor's servant.

“I...” Professor Thlu-Ry pipes up, but the velvet robed man with his strange headgear holds up an impatient hand.

“The petition is granted.” The elderly man's dense brows draw together like thunder clouds. “Today's session is finished, gentlemen.”

You cannot tremble violently. Not in front of so many people. You also swallow down your relief and start to clean your place.

When Major Motti passes your seat, he whispers in a conspiratorial tone of voice, “Child Protective Services suck. One of my cousins just got a divorce and still has to fight for the right of custody. A drama really. Good luck!”

There is not much you can add to this, so you just nod in military style and receive a wink from him.

Before you can rush out the door, someone calls your name. “Director Krennic!”

You freeze.

The Imperial champion places his well-manicured fingers on your left forearm. “A moment, if you would.”

“Of course,” you mumble and turn around to face the man.

“The last time that we saw one another was during Nagina's service.” True devotion and sorrow change the hostile face, making it much softer. “You did a great job there.”

To beam about such a praise would not be right given the circumstances, so you keep up appearances by showing a sabbac face that gives nothing away.

“I hope for your sake that adopting the child of your former lover will motivate you. Of late your performances are not the best.” The man sighs. “Nagina would not want you to get harmed by her uncle's schemes in any way. But fact is, that this project might cost you your life.”

The more you stare flabbergasted at the person who talks to you so openly you have the nagging feeling that Paté is not his name.

You ponder and ponder.

It has something to do with art.

“My life has not been blessed with off-spring on my own.”

Your throat becomes tight, because your instinct tells you that you should not share such intimate details. And certainly not with a man being so dangerously close to Palpatine.

“Sheev should have made me Nagina's godfather, but Saté got the job.” Anger makes his eyes flash and his eye brows seem to be in attack modus again. “A very poor choice if you ask me. He hated her from the first moment he set eyes on her.”

It is still wise to keep your opinion to yourself. The Inner Circle is like a nest of deadly vipers.

“I know you are single and not willing for any binding commitment when it comes to females, Orson. Therefore I advise you, get a godfather for that little girl. Somebody who shares the joy and the perils with you.”

The longer this monologue continues, the more you believe to be dreaming.

“Nagina would want the same.” There is a tender smile on the man's lips, while he plays his braided moustache. “Take care, Orson! And try to keep your little girl out of harm's way. You already have mighty enemies.”

Saying thus, Ars Dangor takes his leave from you.

Alone, you stand in the now empty conference room. There is much to think about.

When you step outside, you almost manage to crash into Lord Vader, but the dark knight hurries on, impatiently kicking a cleaning unit aside. The little droid remains stunned for a couple of seconds. Then it zooms away, making a series of panicked sounds.

“Another one bites the dust,” you mumble to yourself.

Yet, you do not smile.

Your own words just reminded you, that a soldier's life is dangerous and sometimes short lived. Of course, you have a higher rank than an ordinary foot soldier. There is, for example your university degree in architecture and engineering, combined with special qualification in weapons engineering. And at present, you are some kind of manager and pitch man.

Briefly, you move a hand over your eyes.

“I cannot do it alone!” you sigh.

The pandemonium on Scarif has cost you a lot of energy and the girl might stay disabled for the rest of her life.

Then you have to heed Ars' kind warning about your enemies. Your number one is Tarkin, the old stage hog. Not only do you have the feeling that he wants to take your project from you, but that he is also involved in Ina's homicide.

Gnarling on your underlip, you walk the steel corridors of the headquarters.

Perhaps you need to appoint somebody as the girl's godfather after all. The question is who would be willing enough to take on such a task. Not many know Ina's connection to the Emperor. And even among those who do, most persons will give out to you to have stolen her clone copy out of a clone tank.

On the way to the hospital, there is much for you to think about. But whatever you do, no matter what you will decide on, the health and happiness of an innocent child depend on you. Not any child. She is all that is left of your beloved babysitter.

You force the tears away.

Actually, the girl is so much more than just a perfect match with Ina's DNA code. The more you come to know her during your visits at the hospital, the more you learn to love her for what she is. And that is certainly something more vivid than the memory of love and acceptance you once were allowed to experience as a child.

Cassandra is the real deal. A keeper. The girl you want to help to grow up in a normal and healthy way. Without the Sheevster ever being aware of her presence.

**Author's Note:**

> Sources:  
The song “How does a moment last forever” by Celine Dion (2017)  
Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Encyclopaedia


End file.
